Can you rate my poem? Ode to golf.?

Tried to rhyme it. I wrote this poem for my love, golf :)

What a game, golf is to play,

I wish I could play, this sport everyday,

Sometimes its good, sometimes its bad,

It makes me so happy, and frustrated, and mad.

I tee up the beautiful, wonderful ball,

And hopefully today, I don’t have to call,

“Fore!” to warn other players, golfing ahead,

that a ball may strike them, striking them dead.

Globally known as a slow, quiet game,

But yelling is common, for the shots, good and lame.

So many bad things can happen out there,

On the soft, green grass, thick as full hair,

You may make a splash, or hit a tree,

Be in the sand, or right, where you can’t see.

You may have a bad lie, be to far away,

Many things can go wrong to ruin your day,

But just when you think, this is a bad game,

You hit a great shot, to remind you why you came,

The ball hits the club, it feels just right,

Flies through the air, perfect trajectory and flight,

Lands on the green, goes toward the pole,

Rolls slowly, and amazingly, right into the hole.

Your buddies erupt, into a loud roar,

And then you mark up a wonderful score.

After a day, four hours, walking in the sun,

You think to yourself, “Wow that was fun.”

The challenge, the battle, excitement, and pressure,

Used in your life, as a refresher,

Then you come out tomorrow, to challenge the course,

Only to think again, you and golf, need a divorce